3 Stupas, 2 Mosques and a Pizza Parlor

We got into Rangoon late, but not too late as to hear the last Muslim prayer call from a nearby mosque. The next day, walking around was perhaps the biggest cultural shock I've seen in my travels. Within a five block radius of our hostel, there were 3 Buddhist temples, 2 mosques, a synagogue, a Hindu temple and an Italian restaurant (ok so not quite a pizza parlor). There was also a Chinese (Tao/Buddhist) temple nearby.

These religious differences were accentuated by the racial diversity I saw on the streets; people whom I might have identified as Thai, Nepalese, Indian or Bangladeshi, all in one place as a result of Burma's geography (as well as British colonialism). This diversity will inevitably dominate many of my Burma bloggings to come. I only wish I had the means to upload photos on the road to share this smorgasbord of culture.

Stupormarkets

Supermarkets in Colombia have been around for years, only in Eighties and Nineties did one see vast expansion around virtually every large population center in the country. On Sundays and holidays, it is impossible to navigate the packed aisles of an Exito or Carrefour, due to Colombians' obsession and reliance on these two monster grocery chains. Groceries isn't just all, both sell consumer electronics, clothes, bedding, furniture; they are more like a Target or Fred Meyer on steroids. Carrefour even has movie theaters.

While the convenience of having EVERYTHING in one place is not to be overlooked, there are some big things the grocery stores here are missing:

-The produce is way overpriced and of questionable quality. This is the most observable weakness of any Colombian grocery store: wilted veggies, rotten fruit seem barbaric to see at a grocery, especially when it is possible to get delicious, fresh (and even organic) produce at a corner market or the large central market. The price of avocados says it all: 3500 each at Carrefour or 500 each at Minorista.

-The meat and dairy is not very fresh. This is shocking for Antioquia, the heartland of cattle and dairy.   I suggest a trip to MerColanta or your neighborhood butcher to see what real cow products look like.

-The imported products are nice, but are sometimes spoiled. Being French-owned, Carrefour does have one of the best wine and cheese selections in the city, the problem: there isn't that much of a market for that here, at least where we live in the city so the products have often sat on the shelves so long that they go bad. Twice I've had to take back wine (a $20 bottle) that was corked (at least they accepted the return right?) And most recently a wheel of Gouda cheese that was spoiled.

What I usually end up doing is going to Exito for several products, then Carrefour for the next, and Makro for others; almost the same amount of time it would take to go to the veg market, the meat market etc. So I've resolved to start doing exactly that. I've found a great organic bakery that also does produce, there is a small farmers market closeby; I figure if I'm going to more than 3 places to get what I need for dinner, better to support the little guy AND get better quality. My only limitation is what I can carry with my own two hands and backpack.

Fleeting friendships

I meet a lot of really cool and interesting people coming through the hostel. The fact that the hostel draws such a similar-minded crowd I will tout as one of our biggest successes. Of course, we have the occasional d-bag, but I can honestly say that of the 1,000+ guests that came through our doors the past year, I genuinely disliked only 3 people.

The hard part is that you develop these friendships with travelers whom you will probably never see again. It's a great surprise having friends come back to the hostel for a 2nd or 3rd time but after they leave I kind of write them off or leave them to the unfulfilling friend-dom of Facebook. I have some local friends in Medellín, but my schedule is too busy to make a lot of time for them, so they usually only see me when we host events at the hostel. So the friendships I make through the hostel are often fleeting however, in my commitment to my Medellín friends, I'm the one who's fleeting. It's not a terrible thing, but it does make me miss my friends back home more often than not.

Beating the war drums

Walking around DC, the first thing I noticed were some sort of propaganda posters on the sides of bus shelters. Obama shared a poster with Iran's Ahmadinejad in a rather evil embrace with a Mullah, the text read: "Do you trust him? (Obama) Do trust them? (the Iranians)." 

The push for a military operation in Iran, though probably lacking in popular support in the U.S., seems a viable option in Israel, which would undoubtably require U.S. assistance in some capacity. Not only is it a terrible idea, it would likely fail to achieve its objectives. The Economist lays out one of the best arguements for sanctions and diplomacy in place of military action that can be read here. 

Blogging for Colombia

ProExport, Colombia's tourism and foreign investment body is affiliating 33 "Official Bloggers" from around the globe who are currently living in Colombia. They will be provided with a stipend and will be blogging in 5 different languages about their experiences living in Colombia. I applaud the Colombian Government's new approach in using bloggers for Public Diplomacy and hope this will aid in bettering Colombia's image throughout the world.

You can check out their blog entries starting February 20th here. 

"Order Amid Chaos"

..was how Betty finally described the dismal speedboat service between Capurganá and Turbo. There are no overland routes between the two destinations so one must either fly (pricey) or speedboat (dicey) to paradise. We had flown from Medellín to Apartadó, then taken a 50km taxi through banana plantations to arrive at the transport hub of Turbo. Turbo gets a bad rap for being dingy and dangerous, though we found the former, not the latter to be the greatest inconvenience as shop owners swept mounds of dust and dirt out into the streets and up in the air.

I went to the ticket office at 6am to secure our passage to Capurganá. Literally everyone will tell you that you must sit towards the back of the boat to avoid getting tossed around during the trip. I paid the fare and checked that we were the 8th and 9th people to book passage on our particular boat. When the call to load the boat was announced, there was a mad shuffle towards the boat. Seeing fifteen people shoot past us and jump in the boat, I called out that we were getting screwed out of our rightfully purchases spots. They let us by and we got so-so seats in the middle next to a guy who had bought his ticket at 8am.

 

As we headed North, we encountered some pretty large waves and had to hold on to keep from getting thrown around. At one pointe, we crashed into a big wave and water soaked everybody from the front to the middle of the boat, causing some of the passengers to cry out and complain. The captain slowed the boat, as if to say "you want to swim?" and we sat there for 15 minutes as I contemplated the "customer review" sheets we had been given before leaving port. Two and a half hours later, we arrived in Capurganá, stiff, a little bruised and ready to relax. 

Turkish Lebanese

Our last night in Capurganá, we sat down for a simple fish soup at a restaurant called "El Tur.Co." Turco in Spanish means Turkish. I bet Betty (while already playing cards) that the owner was either Turkish or had a Tourism (Tur = tour) company on the side. When I asked him he told me he his parents were from Lebanon and that he had been born and raised in Colombia.

So why the Turkish front? Apparently, much like "Chino" in Colombia can be used to describe any person of Asian descent, "Turco" is a generalization for anybody from the Middle East. Some might find this a little insulting, I think its a remnant of Colombia's insular history. FYI I was not able to order Tabbouli off the menu.